I'd rather be a lover than a fighter / 'cause all my life I've been fighting


Ayla Turner was a mess. Her dark hair was disheveled and stringy; she must not have washed it for a week or two. Her brown eyes were big but hollow, sunken in against sallow, pocked skin. Somehow she looked both very old and very young simultaneously, aged by her drug use but scared enough to appear child-like. Separated from her boyfriend and alone in an interrogation room, she tugged at the sleeves of her too-big sweatshirt. As Amanda watched her through the glass, she assumed Ayla was nervously trying to cover up track marks, but her efforts were futile: she had them between her fingers, too.

"Without her boyfriend breathing down her neck, she'll talk," Liv murmured to Amanda as they eyed Ayla from her office. "I want a DNA sample ASAP."

"This Michael dude looks pretty comfortable in there," Sonny observed from the other side of the room, peering in on Ayla's boyfriend.

"Let's shake him up a little," Fin suggested to Sonny. "See if he talks."

While Fin and Sonny went in to interrogate Michael, Amanda slid into a metal chair across from Ayla. She crossed her arms and leaned back, watching the woman fidget in silence. She could be pretty, if she took care of herself, Amanda thought. She reminded her a little of Kim, when her sister was at her worst: a mere shell of a human being. "You know an Adam Wheeler?"

Ayla gnawed on a thumb nail; there were remnants of lime green polish there. "Yeah," she responded hoarsely. "He's my ex-boyfriend."

Amanda sat up straighter before she leaned over the table. "Any reason why he'd call me from jail and tell me you killed your kid?"

She nodded in response, but didn't say anything.

Amanda was surprised. Usually people were passionately defending themselves at this point, even if they were guilty - especially when they were guilty. Ayla looked skittish, but she hadn't protested, not even when they had brought her into the precinct from her hovel of a walk-up. Her boyfriend's behavior had been more typical: he was brash, loud and insulting the entire ride into Manhattan. Amanda almost felt badly for Ayla; she had taken the word of a faceless Rikers inmate and this could all turn out to be a mistake. The woman's life had clearly been rough and Michael was definitely an asshole, but that didn't make either of them killers. Still, Amanda had to do her due diligence.

"Why would he do that?" she prompted Ayla.

Ayla looked at the table. "Because... because that's what I told him."

"You told him you killed your daughter?" Amanda clarified slowly.

She nodded.

"Did you?"

"Yes."

The word was quiet, but it rang though out the interrogation room. Amanda could feel her heartbeat quickening in anticipation. She hadn't really expected this lead to go anywhere, but now she could be staring her perpetrator in the face.

"What did you do?" she asked Ayla.

"I, um. Okay. Casey was havin' trouble going to bed. She kept screamin' and cryin'... I tried to calm her down but she wouldn't listen to me. I swore at her, I did, but I only hit her one time!" she babbled frantically. "I was sick, you know? I was so sick, I hadn't... I didn't have any money for... stuff and I was feelin' bad and it was hard to listen to her being so loud. And she's always been that way. Since she was born, she's been so hard. If I told her to do one thing, she'd do the opposite. She was always hanging on me, following me, wanting stuff." She was nearly breathless; she looked more irritated than guilty. The expression she gave Amanda was one of pleading, as if she was desperate for some sympathy. "So that night, she was really bad. I couldn't do it. So Mike says, he says, 'let me try.' So I left the room and let him try."

"Then what happened?"

"When I went back in... she was all swollen and gray." She briefly met Amanda's eyes, then they flickered back down to the table. "I freaked out, I... I started panickin'. Mike said if I called the police he'd murder me-"

"What did Michael do?" Amanda interrupted her.

"He said he punched Casey in the stomach a few times, that she was being too difficult and that she had always been a bad kid. And I wanted to call 9-1-1, but he said 'no.' So I..."

"You what?"

"I didn't want to get in trouble," Ayla cried. "I-I didn't know what to do. I wrapped her up and... I put her in a trash bag and put her in the extra refrigerator we have in the basement."

Amanda's anticipation was replaced by a steadily growing anger. She had heard people admit to plenty of terrible things over the years as a police officer, but this struck a raw, painful nerve. It was quickly becoming difficult to keep up her usual stoic facade. "You put her in the refrigerator?"

"Yes. And then I, well, I had this bigger bag..." she went on meekly. "I didn't know what else to do, so I put her in that. Michael had the idea of putting a couple of weights in it and putting it in the water..."

"And... and you did this four weeks ago," she intoned.

Ayla nodded.

She sat up straight again. "Let me be clear," she began, her voice louder than before. "You and your boyfriend beat your three and a half year old to death because you were annoyed and dope sick-"

Ayla's eyes widened. "You make it sound like-"

"I'm not 'making it sound like' anything!" Amanda slammed her hand against the table as she leapt to her feet, making Ayla jump in her chair. She glared at the younger woman. She barely knew her, but she hated her. It was sudden and it was fierce, but Amanda was livid. "You killed your daughter, kept her in your refrigerator, wrapped her up in a trash bag and tossed her in the East River! And for four weeks - four fucking weeks! - while the entire city was wondering who this little girl was, how they could put her to rest properly, you knew. You knew that was your daughter. You knew exactly what you had done."

Somebody in Liv's office knocked forcefully on the glass, signaling that she should stop. Amanda heard it, but she had no intention of acknowledging it. The jealous rage bubbling up inside of her was too prominent; she was going to act on it. It was only a matter of time.

"I didn't mean-"

Amanda got up and walked to Ayla's side of the table. "No," she interrupted her loudly. "You had two other kids and you threw them away, didn't you, Ayla? Lucky for them, they made it out alive. That must've been nice, right? Bein' able to do drugs and screw around without having to worry about them crying and wanting to be fed. Except then you had Casey and she messed everything up for you," she continued menacingly. Palms pressed against the cold metal, Amanda loomed over her, crowding closer and closer into Ayla's side. "You had Casey and you didn't even fucking deserve her. Do you realize that? You didn't deserve her, you didn't deserve any of them. You are so fucking selfish!" Her last word was punctuated by her hand colliding with Ayla's thin shoulder, shoving her. It felt good. Her resentment was powerful and this young, careless mother was the perfect target. She could have knocked Ayla right off of her chair, could have pummeled her until she looked worse than she did when she came in...

Ayla winced at the blow and curled her arms up close to her face and body, trembling. "Please don't hurt me. Please."

The door to the interrogation room burst open. Liv appeared, wide-eyed and angry. "Rollins!"

Chest heaving, Amanda stared at her lieutenant, the sight of her jarring her back into reality. She could feel her face growing hot as her mouth hung open, unable to speak. Had she really just done that? Had she really just attacked a suspect - a very important suspect - in front of Liv? How could she have let herself get so out of control?

"My office, now!" Liv barked.

Still appearing as stunned as she felt, Amanda's legs carried her out of the interrogation room and into the office. She was horrified to find Chief Dodds standing by Liv's desk, arms crossed and face stern. The color that had rose to her cheeks now drained away and she stopped, frozen, in the middle of the room.

"What the hell were you thinking, Sergeant?" Dodds exclaimed angrily.

"I, uh, I..." she stammered uselessly, scraping her tremulous fingers through her hair.

"Is this how you allow your detectives to interrogate people, Lieutenant?" he demanded the second Liv returned.

"No. Absolutely not," Liv responded irritably. "Rollins, you are way out of line. As of now, you're on leave till I say you aren't."

Amanda swallowed thickly. All she could do was nod quickly, wordlessly, and slip out of the door.


"'Manda?"

She heard Sonny's voice in their bedroom. Covered head-to-toe in sheets and blankets, Amanda opened her eyes in the dark. She made a low noise of acknowledgement but didn't move from her position curled up on her side.

She felt his weight shift the mattress as he sat next to her. "'Manda, hey, I've been really worried about you." His hand rested on her hip. "I texted you ten times, so did Fin."

"My phone's off," she mumbled.

"What the hell happened today?" Sonny asked her anxiously. "Fin and I were with the boyfriend for an hour and when I came out, Liv wouldn't tell me anything. "

Amanda flung the covers away from her face and stared up at the ceiling. It was only eight thirty at night, but once she had put Jesse to bed, she had immediately retreated to her own. The room was illuminated only by the small lamp on their dresser, but Amanda wasn't trying to sleep. Any attempt at rest would have been futile - her head was spinning and her heart was racing. "I just... lost it."

"What do you mean?" he coaxed, shifting closer to her.

She could feel it: she was going to cry. She was angry, embarrassed, afraid. Blinking quickly, she tried to fight it, but the muscles in her cheeks were twitching and her lip was trembling. She put her palms over her face and screwed her eyes shut in an attempt to keep herself together.

Sonny reached out to squeeze her arm. "Hey, it's alright," he assured her quietly. "Talk to me."

Pulling in a deep breath, she dropped her hands back down at her side. Looking over at Sonny, she could tell he was worried. He always wore his concern all over his face. "I fucked up. I just, I couldn't take it. I got so... I got so fucking angry at her."

"Okay..." His hand soothed slowly up and down her arm. "What happened?"

"She was just, she was talking about what she did and I just kept thinking about how unfair it was." It sounded so juvenile, so petty, as it came out of her mouth.

"To her daughter, you mean?" Sonny clarified.

"Yeah but... but more than that," Amanda admitted softly. She blinked back up at the ceiling. "It's not fair that she gets to have three kids that she treats like shit, that have to be kicked around the foster system, that don't get to live... when there are plenty of people who want kids and can't have them or..." This felt personal, she was trying to say. I made it about me.

There was heaviness in Sonny's tone. "Amanda..."

"I shoved her. I don't know what I was thinkin'. I wasn't, I guess." She glanced over at Sonny and asked timidly, "is she... okay?"

"She's fine. She was arrested as an accessory to murder and is withdrawin' from heroin at Rikers, but other than that, she's fine," he explained sarcastically. "We sent cadaver dogs to her apartment - they signaled at the extra refrigerator, just like she confessed."

Amanda nodded. "Liv suspended me," she whispered.

He cringed. "For how long?"

"I dunno. And... when I came outta the box, Dodds was there."

"Did he see?"

"Pretty sure he did, yeah."

"That's... that's bad."

"I didn't mean to," Amanda croaked. "I swear. I didn't go in there plannin' on doing that to her..."

"I know you didn't. I know," he insisted.

"I've never done that before. I mean, I've come really close, but I've never actually done it."

"You lost your cool. It happens. I almost broke that dog of a dentist's hand a few years ago, remember?"

"But Liv and Dodds weren't watching when that happened."

"No... but, look. You'll talk to Liv and you'll explain. She'll understand."

"I'm so tired of bein' like, the bad kid in the principal's office with her. I know in the past I've done stupid stuff and I've even defended whatever dumb shit I did. But this..." She struggled to sit up and looked at Sonny desperately, like it was him she was trying to convince. "I really didn't mean it. You were right: I got way too invested and..."

"And?"

"And..." Amanda slumped back against the headboard and frowned at Sonny. "You know," she eventually whispered, hoping he would understand what she was implying: that she thought she had been fine, but clearly her lingering grief over her miscarriage had fueled her explosive reaction.

Sonny nodded solemnly. "I know."


Two days at home and Amanda was going stir-crazy. By the time Sonny returned from work, she peppered him with questions, desperate to know what was happening in her absence. He claimed ignorance: Liv hadn't spoken to him about Amanda's suspension. All he could tell her was that the case was going on as it usually would, with Ayla and Michael in custody and Barba now intensely involved. The media coverage was non-stop, all of the news outlets frantically delving into the pasts of their two perpetrators, looking for any bit of information to publish before their competitors. Instead of being at the forefront of the excitement, Amanda had earned herself a frustrating position on the sidelines.

She didn't know how long she would be grounded and that made her nervous. She could endure being bored for a little while, but only if she was certain her job was secure. Amanda was sure she had never seen Liv look so angry - and God, had she pissed her lieutenant off before. The expressions on her superiors' faces, that was what was keeping her up at night. Maybe Liv was tired of giving her chances. Maybe this time, she thought Amanda to be more of a liability than an asset. She had never been sure that Dodds had liked her; now he definitely wouldn't.

Sitting close to Sonny on the couch that night, her legs draped over his lap, Amanda tried to distract herself. Worryin' about it isn't gonna change the outcome, Sonny kept preaching to her. It wasn't, but she was a consummate over-thinker. In an effort to maintain normalcy, they shared popcorn as they watched television. Both children were successfully asleep as rain tapped against the windows of their little yellow house.

"How d'you think they select the ingredients on Chopped?" Amanda asked curiously as she picked at the contents of the bowl Sonny had set on her knee.

"I dunno. I'd like that job, though," Sonny mused.

She rested her head against his shoulder. "Wouldn't you run out of ideas?"

"Nah, not if it was my whole job to think of stuff," he reasoned, crunching on some popcorn.

"You should be a contestant," she murmured, reaching in for another handful. "I'd like to see you try and make everything Italian."

The doorbell rang and Amanda and Sonny glanced at one another, confused. Frannie trotted to the front of the house, tail wagging and ears back.

"I'll get it," Sonny offered, untangling their limbs to get to his feet.

Amanda curled back up in his absence, taking hold of the bowl of popcorn. She watched the television with feigned interest, but was almost immediately distracted by the sight of Liv standing in her living room next to Sonny.

Taken aback, she sat up straight and put the bowl on the coffee table. "Liv, hi."

"Hi... okay if I sit?" she asked, looking between the two detectives.

"Yeah, of course," Amanda said, gesturing to the arm chair closest to the couch. Sonny sank back down next to her.

"What's goin' on?" Sonny asked Liv curiously.

Liv looked at Amanda intently as she informed her quietly, "I need to let you know that I'm going to have to report you to IAB."

"What?" Amanda sputtered, her eyes wide with shock.

"I'm sorry, but I have no choice," Liv said steadily.

She sat on the edge of the couch, anxious. "You don't have to do that-"

"I have no choice."

"You do have a choice!"

"No, Amanda, I don't. Even if Dodds hadn't been there, it would still be protocol. Now, I'm going to do my best to keep this out of the media..."

Amanda's mouth fell open. "I just got a little pissed off, Liv. Everyone's done it, everybody has overreacted in there-"

"That doesn't mean I can turn a blind eye to it, and that doesn't mean it's okay, especially when a case has this much publicity," Liv interrupted.

"Liv, I am beggin' you. Please don't tell IAB," she pleaded desperately. She was starting to grow nauseous with dread. "They're gonna crucify me, with my file..."

Sonny finally spoke from his spot at Amanda's side, his voice low but strained, "Lieu, isn't there any other-"

"Carisi, you have to stay out of this," Liv ordered harshly. "You shouldn't even be here for this conversation."

"Yeah, well, this is my house and she's my wife," Sonny retorted sharply.

If she hadn't been shocked before, Amanda certainly was now. Sonny typically had so much reverence for Liv; he never challenged her. His tone of voice was irritable, defensive, and she was sure their lieutenant wouldn't appreciate it. "Sonny, leave it. Stop," Amanda whispered feebly, setting a hand on his knee.

Liv cleared her throat. "I came by as a courtesy," she told Amanda curtly. "I didn't want them to contact you without a heads up."

"Thanks," she mumbled insincerely, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Amanda," Liv sighed, rubbing at her forehead like she was exasperated. "I'm not trying to make your life difficult. It's not like you're the first person this has happened to. God knows Amaro used to spend more time at IAB than Tucker."

She caught herself glaring at her lieutenant, her features turning to stone. "Me and him aren't the same," she asserted icily.

"I'm not saying you are. I'm just telling you, you aren't the first and you won't be the last. It's happened to me, too."

That did not make Amanda feel better. "When can I come back?" she asked brusquely.

"I don't get to decide that. IAB does," she explained, then added quickly, "you have to understand that with all of the press around this case, the last thing we need is Ayla crying 'police brutality' to them-"

"I get it, you're coverin' your ass, making sure everybody knows you're doing your job," Amanda mumbled cynically.

Liv sighed. "Don't make this personal, Amanda. I know you didn't mean to do it."

"If you know it, then why are you taking it this far? To make sure your job is safe if shit hits the fan, even if it means mine is in jeopardy?" she snapped.

The lieutenant got to her feet. She looked exhausted. "Protocol is protocol."

"Fine." Amanda crossed her arms over her chest and stared coldly at Liv. "You can go now."


Legs crossed, Amanda jiggled her foot impatiently as she sat in a stark white room at the Internal Affairs Bureau offices. They had asked her to meet two days after Liv informed her that she would be making a report. Amanda was glad it happened sooner rather than later, so she didn't have to spend weeks dreading an impending interview.

When the door finally opened, Sergeant Cole Draper appeared. In one hand he held a file folder, in the other, a small camera. "Rollins, long time no see."

She couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not; she grunted.

"So," Draper sighed, sitting in his chair and flipping open the folder. His eyes scanned over the documents there before he looked up at Amanda. "You know the drill by now."

Amanda crossed her arms over her chest.

Draper turned on the camera that now rested on the table between them. "Tell me what happened last week."

She looked at the camera, then at Draper, then at a spot on the wall behind his head. "I was interrogating a suspect and things got out of hand."

"Out of hand?" Draper repeated skeptically.

"I got a little too... involved," Amanda told him vaguely.

"You need to be specific," he reminded her.

"I shoved her," she snapped. "I overreacted to the details of her confession and I shoved her shoulder. I regret doing it. It was a mistake."

"Do you understand how inappropriate that was?" Draper scoffed.

"I do," she said quietly.

He eyed her. "Detective-"

"Sergeant," Amanda corrected him.

"Sergeant, I'm sure you're aware that your record isn't exactly spotless," Draper explained.

"Yeah."

"I'm also sure you're aware that this case has received nationwide attention."

"Yes."

"That being said, I'm inclined to put you on administrative leave for the next month."

"What?" she exclaimed incredulously, hoping she had misheard.

"If this gets out to the press, I have to be able to show them that we've taken action," her responded coolly.

"'Taken action?'" she repeated with a crass laugh. "Are you... are you kidding me?"

"Calm down, Detect-"

"Sergeant!" she repeated loudly, getting to her feet. "Let me tell you somethin': I came here from Atlanta seven years ago and have given everything to NYPD. I have... I've, I've put it before my kids, my marriage, my... everything! I do the work of three detectives every damn day and I do it well. So if you wanna suspend one of your best officers and have some rookie take my place for a month, fine. Make an example outta me because I got emotionally involved, go ahead. But I promise you, the only thing that's gonna suffer is SVU and the people I protect and serve." She stalked over to the door and yanked it open. "It sure as hell isn't gonna be me."

"Where do you think you're going? This interview isn't over," Draper exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"It is now," she told him curtly before boldly walking away.